Always Takes One
by Seliq
Summary: Hailey assumed she would be murdered instantly when she met his cold, reflecting eyes. But what she didn't know, was that he always takes one. CollectorXoc
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I am Seliq, and I'm starting yet another story...  
The Collector and the Collection are two awesome films that don't get much attention. Especially on this site. It brings new life to slasher movies, and is overall a great horror.  
I only recently found out that they just made a category for the film, and seeing the lack of stories and with some encouragement from a friend; decided to write my own story!  
Enjoy...**

**Always Takes One  
PROLOGUE**

' _Karen Smith reporting here for CVTG News. The Collector strikes again.'_

_'Another person has believed to have fallen victim to who the public know only as the Collector, a serial killer known not only for his gruesome murders but also for frequent kidnapping.  
The Jones family came home from their weekend trip two weeks ago to find the house a disturbing mess and their 17 year old son Matthew missing.  
It was yesterday when authorities found the young mans remains dumped in the local river.'_

I raised an eyebrow at the news report on the TV mounted on the wall. As I sorted out a pile of movies to return to their shelves, I looked at the genres. Comedy, family...looks like people are trying to lighten their moods, seeing as there's reports of a murderer in the state.

"Kind of like a movie isn't it?"

I turned around to see the other video store employee gesturing to the TV. I sighed and nodded in agreement.

"Killer guy in a mask with his own nickname, something out of one of them old slasher films i'd say. " She blabbed on boringly.

It was a rather repetitive job here at the video store, and its holidays so we have to shut late at 9pm. Its painful but I need the money for my psychology studies.  
Samantha; the other employee and I often find ourselves talking about random junk to pass the time. We are supposed to have the tv play a disc of trailers over and over again, but even the news seemed more interesting than that today.

I looked at my watch as I began returning the pile of movies to their shelves. _7:34_. An hour and a half to go, then I can pick up some Chinese food and get back to my apartment. My boring...lonely...apartment.

Samantha is dawdling, I can tell. She's only been here since 2pm but her head is obviously not in the game. I watch as she shifts on her feet and sighs, then I roll my eyes and make my way back behind the counter.

"Hey, why don't you head home. I can hold up here for the rest of the night." I suggested to her.

Her face immediately brightens and she grins. "Thanks Hailey, you're the best!" She then wastes no time in packing up her things and heading for the door.

"See ya Hailey!" She calls one last time as she walks out the door and waves to me through the window.

My eyes drift to the TV, now playing some over dramatic reality show. I used the remote to change it back to movie trailers, however boring they may be.

A few minutes later the familiar sound of the bell signalling a customer dings. I instinctively turn to greet them but they walk right past the counter and into the rows of shelves. All I saw was that they were wearing a black hoodie. How strange.

I look at my computer and open up the security camera footage, deciding to keep an eye on them.  
He looks like a guy, and seems to have gone right to the horror/thriller section. I scoff, someone knows what he wants. I half expect him to shove the movies into his jacket, but he actually comes up to the counter.

I get a good view of him face on as he walks towards me. But there's not much to look at. His hood conceals most his head, but he's also wearing sunglasses. He stops just in front of the counter and puts the movies in front of me.

"Hi, how are you?" I say automatically, as I do with everyone. But he doesn't reply.

I raise my eyebrows, but continue the usual routine nonetheless. I unlock the covers and scan them, both I and the stranger avoiding looking at each other. I study his movie selections, and its disturbing, weird movies like _The Human Centipede, The Poughkeepsie Tapes, Salvage _and_ A Serbian Film_. I don't say anything though.

"Do you have a membership?" I ask in my usual polite tone.

No answer.

He then dumps a small stack of cash on the counter, and I see he has burnt skin on his hand. Movies don't really cost much, maybe ten bucks for his, but this looked like over a hundred dollars. What was he doing?

"Are you alright sir?" I ask then lift up the money "this is far too much, I think-"

He tilts his head to the side, then picks up his movies and walks around the counter to leave.

"Sir?" I call out, but he's already left. "Guess I'll keep the change...?"

...

**Chapter I:**

"You feel like you're being followed? Hailey, that's ridiculous." Samantha muttered one cold raining day at the store a couple weeks after the weird guy incident.

"It's just that strange feeling of being watched, you know?...I don't know Sam I'm just paranoid."

"Yeah, probably. All this stuff about the Collector guy on the news has got you on edge. Don't worry about it." She assured me.

I checked the system several times, but there was no record of the movies that guy bought were returned. Not that I was surprised, he didn't seem like a trustworthy person. It didn't matter anyways, I had counted that money and it ended up being about $250. More than enough to pay for the lost movies.

It was only a couple hours later when I finished my shift and was walking down the street towards the car park. My mood took a downfall as I heard the rumbles of thunder in the distance and I felt the light spitting of rain. I began to jog as my car came into view.

I fiddled with my keys then quickly got the door open, sighing in relief as I got in the car and closed the door behind me. After a moment I dropped my bag in the passenger seat and put the key into the ignition.

As I turned it I was only met with short coughs of the engine. It won't start. I groaned, just _perfect_!

I tried several more times, but the car just wouldn't start. It was strange, my car is fairly new and had never had a problem like this. I reluctantly got out to check the engine, shivering in the light rain as I lifted the hood.

A moment passed, and I rolled my eyes when I realised I know nothing about cars. I dropped the hood with a _thunk_ then looked around the car park. There was maybe two other cars spread out over the large area. The closest was a white van, the head lights were on.

Knowing all the stores around there were most likely closed, I walked towards the van to ask for help from the driver. I made my way to the drivers side but couldn't see anyone in there, I leaned forward squinting through the window. Nothing. I pulled away in frustration, they must of just forgotten to turn off the lights.

I was about to go back to my car and call someone to pick me up when I noticed some discolouration on the side of the van. Crimson skids standing out on the white paint, was that blood? The rain wasn't too heavy but had began to make the blood drip downwards.

I slowly walked around the side of the van, wide eyed and shaking. I then noticed one of the back doors were open, and I cautiously leaned down a bit to look under it. Nothing. I stepped around the door to look inside.

It's mostly empty, besides rope, chains and such. And a peculiar looking large red box. But what catches my eye is the more blood on the interior and a figure lying to the side. They were dressed in all black and had their back to me. I looked around, worried, but how could I just leave this person?

"Excuse me?...sir? Are..are you okay?" I call out. But of course, there is no reply.

I curse under my breath and lift myself into the van, crouching as I made my way towards him. As I had observed him further, I could tell it was a guy from the broad shoulders and overall bulky structure.

I rested a hand on his shoulder, shaking him ever so lightly in hopes to wake him up. _Please don't be dead_.

It happened in a matter of seconds. The man jumped up from his spot on the floor with lightning speed, and reached out to grab the open door and slam it shut. I fell on my ass and quickly backed up as far as I could. I watched his back as his shoulders shook, and my eyes traveled to the back of his head where I could see a bunch of ties holding something to his face.

He turned. And I could now see the mask he wore, black with no nose hole and made of some odd material I couldn't identify. He walked forwards, and in the faint light peering in the van I could see his eyes. _Those eyes._

They looked silver as they reflected the light, like cat eyes or some type of insect. What kind of eye condition is that? Or perhaps he was wearing contact lenses...

He walked over to the crimson trunk laying on the floor and unlocked it, lifting it open. He then turned to me again, head tilted and stature threatening. He stepped slowly forwards.

"No!...no no I'm sorry I didn't...I didn't mean to...there was blood and I-" I cried pathetically. I didn't know what this man was capable of, could it have been the Collector everyone is talking about? _Oh god no..._

He lunged at me, grabbing my ankles and pulling me away from the corner. He wrapped his arms around my thighs and threw me over his shoulder. He then dropped me into the trunk where I landed rather painfully.

My world went dark as the masked man slammed the trunk shut.

* * *

**A/N:  
I'm not sure if i'll get reviews so soon, as currently the Collector and its sequel are still fairly new and its only just gotten a category. But I always appreciate feedback and it motivates me to write- so keep that in mind!  
I can't say I'll be updating very frequently, as I am currently in the middle of writing two other stories. But we'll see. **

**If you're reading, please review!3 **


	2. Chapter 2

**I didn't expect reviewers this soon, but thank you so much! It's nice writing a story knowing others enjoy it too 8)  
And to LostOne, you seem to follow pretty much all my stories- so thanks for sticking with me :)  
The start of this chapter is in third person point of view following the Collector, so you can maybe understand better what he's thinking and why he chose Hailey**

**Always Takes One  
Chapter II:**

When he first saw her, that cold boring night became interesting. After throwing away another one of his collected pieces, he grew bored. So he ventured out in the open in search for nothing in particular when through the window of the video store he saw a tv.

Police sketches that looked relatively like him, along with his nickname; 'Collector' splayed across the screen and images of his last victim. The corner of his lips curled up at the recognition, and his eyes drifted to the employee standing behind the counter watching the tv intently.

She had dark chocolate hair, with bright green eyes and creamy skin. He guessed she was around 19-21 years old. He tried to read her name tag, but couldn't from this distance. So he slipped on a pair of sunglasses and headed inside after the other employee left.

After a couple minutes he came to the counter and placed a random selection of gruesome movies in front of her. She greeted him, but he didn't reply, simply took note on the sound of her voice. It was strange having someone talk to him so kindly, he hadn't seen it in a long time. His eyes drifted down to the tag pinned to her black dress shirt, it read; _Hailey_.

He watched Hailey study the movies for a second, her eyebrow raised. _Not a fan of horror,_ he noted. She will be soon.

Hailey blabbed on asking something about a membership, but he wasn't listening to what she was saying. Rather, what she would sound like _screaming_. He decided to humour her, and dumped a stack of cash in front of her. He was no where near low on money from snatching the wallets of all his victims.

He left soon after, despite Hailey calling after him confused. But he knew that this wouldn't be the last they saw of each other, and it probably wasn't to return those films.

Several weeks later, after following and learning about her, he finally decided it was time to take her home to become a new addition to his collection. He laid himself down in the back of the van as he heard her footsteps grow near.

When he heard her call out to him and touch his shoulder, he almost forgot about the plan. He focused on the hand on him, when was the last time someone willingly touched him so gently? He refocused. No. Now was not the time to be thinking of such nonsense

He pounced on her, and finally saw the fear he so longed to see. Then a moment later she was locked inside one of his trunks and they were on their way to the lair.

...

I let out a surprised squeak as he hit another bump in the road and my head hit against the side of the trunk. I choked out a sob and rubbed my face with shaking hands, but didn't allow myself to cry. I didn't want to attract his attention.

In my studies of the criminally insane, apparently most psychopaths became increasingly annoyed when victims screamed or cried. Some even took this as an invitation to hurt them.

It seemed like hours I was stuck in that awful trunk. My curled up legs were beginning to cramp in the tiny space. I tried not to think about the fact I was in a box, as the thought had began to scare me.

The van came to a halt, and I immediately tensed up. I pushed my ear against the side if the trunk, listening to the metal groan as the car door was opened then slammed shut. Footsteps, then my eyes widened as the back doors were opened. The vehicle leaned a bit with his weight, and I could hear the footsteps growing closer.

My trunk was dragged across the vans floor, and then lifted down onto the ground. I heard the van doors shut then he lifted one side of the box and continued to pull me through an unknown area. I heard many sounds, some unidentifiable, but mostly doors and the flicking of switches...and screaming...

I discovered a small hole in the trunk, and squinted through it. Vaguely making out weird hospital like rooms and tools and random weapons. I saw blood splatters, then stopped looking when I saw a decapitated head. I squeezed my eyes shut and covered my mouth.

The movements stopped, and my box was rested down once more. This room was quiet, despite my captors footsteps. He moved away and a door was closed and locked.

I listened for footsteps, or any sign of his presence, but found nothing. So I soon began bashing my shoulders into the sides of the trunk, in the hopes of it loosening screws or breaking or something. I pushed against the lid, but ended up knocking the entire thing over face first with a thud.

Sighing frustrated, I tried moving my weight backwards. Hitting my back against the top and ended up bashing the box against the ground several times. Click.

One of the locks snapped open with the force of my weight against the hard floor. After a few attempts I finally brought the box back upright, and was just able to slip my fingers out to unclip the other locks. I sighed in relief as I pushed the lid open. I was blinded by bright lights as I dropped onto a cold concrete floor.

I squinted as I looked around the room, there was mostly old concrete, perhaps it was some kind of warehouse or abandoned building. I suppose that would make sense for a murderers hideout...

There was an old looking bed, with thin worn out blankets and a dressing table with an assortment of makeup and unknown bottles. I cringed at the sight, but started looking around for a place to escape. I went over to the door, and wasn't surprised when I found it was locked. I then looked under the bed and dresser, and brushed my hands along the wall and floor. Nothing.

I sat in the corner of the room, my legs curled up and my head in my hands. It's just a dream. You'll wake up and you'll be in your apartment then heading off to work. This man isn't the Collector, its all just a misunderstanding. Everything will be okay.

I cover my ears when I hear some kind of power tool start up and a man begin screaming. I end up trying to softly sing lullabies to myself to calm down, as it goes on for quite some time. Then I feel myself drift into slumber...

I shouted out in surprise as I felt myself being shook awake, my eyes shot open to see him. He roughly lifted me off the floor by the shoulders, up until our eyes were level. His eyes were narrowed, clearly pissed off by my escape. He pushed me against the wall and my gasp was cut short as the wind was knocked out of me.

If he was trying to intimidate me, it was working. He was so close I could smell him. The metallic scent of blood, the slight hint of sweat and a natural manly musk.

He then dropped me and I collapsed to the floor painfully. He backed away then pointed to the trunk, which looked to be replaced with a newer one with double locks, he signalled for me to go back inside of it. But I was resistant...

"...I don't...I don't want to go back in there...please I...I.."

His head tilted to the side, and he's suddenly grabbed me and pulled me out of the room and into a dull lit hallway. He then picks something off the floor and I feel something heavy snap around my wrists.

I look down in confusion, and its cold metal shackles locked around my hands. They are connected to a chain, which my captor holds firmly in his grasp. For a moment I had hoped he was setting me free, but the shackles convinced me otherwise. He tugged on the chain, and began walking me down the hall like a dog.

I observed my surroundings confused. Aged wallpaper, dull lights mounted on the walls and many doors. Looks like the back of a strip club or something, I commented to myself.

He opened up a metal door, and pulled me inside. My masked captor then locked the end of my chain to something, and in the faint light I could make out a pole. _Great_. He left the room with a slam of the door.

I couldn't see much in the room, only random fencing and in the back corner...a pile of corpses. I gagged, covering my mouth and nose. That's when I heard voices, whispering and mumbles.

Behind the fencing I could now make out people, disturbed, insane looking people in ripped clothing chained up like me. Only they were chained around the neck like dogs. All their eyes were on me, and one man in particular crawled up and clinged to the fence. He grinned with several missing teeth.

"Masters new favourite ya? I heard the last one sandwiched herself in one of masters own traps! AhAHA!" He shouted at me, then added in a sing song voice "better not get him too _maaaddd_!"

Everyone in the room erupted into crazed laughter, some screamed while others threw random insults at me. Many were tugging at their chains and choking themselves trying to get to me.

This went on for some time, to the point where I was pulling back as far as I could. I pulled my arms up to block my ears somewhat, and was reaching my leg out to kick the door. Trying to get his attention.

He eventually came back, looking rather smug that I obviously wasn't enjoying being outside the trunk. He crossed his arms, looking down at me rather expectantly. Did I really need to say anything? Apparently so...

"I...I don't like it in here..." I mumbled, looking up at him. He simply tilted his head.

"...Can I go back to the box?" I asked, to which he turned his head to the other side. "_Please_.."

He unlocked my chain from the pole, and soon brought me back to the room with my awaiting trunk. As we entered the room he let go of the chain but locked the door. Always so untrusting.

Stepping over to me slowly, he reached out to take off the shackles. I could feel the warmth from his hands slightly through his gloves. I tried to take the opportunity to get answers.

"Why are you doing this?...why me?"

He didn't answer, but dropped the shackles and began tugging me over to the trunk.

"I have money...anything I have is yours, I wouldn't tell anyone...I'm completing studies in psychology, I could help you" I tried persuading. It was all such cliche things to say in situations like these, but I might as well test them once.

He paused, and turned to me. His reflecting eyes were squinted in humour and his mouth shut tight in a smirk as his shoulders shook, looking like he was trying to hold back laughter.

_That bastard._

* * *

**A/N: not much progress, but to be expected in early chapters...**

**I wanted to say, incase any of you didn't know- the directors of The Collector & Collection have a script ready for another sequel~ but! They have said they are still iffy and may not make it till the first movies gain more popularity. So I'd recommend showing your support- get the movies and merchandise, and share it 8)**

**Thanks again to all the reviewers, keep up the feedback!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Just a heads up! I may soon be changing the rating to M, so of course you'll need to edit the filter in the Collector archive if you don't see my story right away. **

**This chapter is abit dark in parts, and there will be many more worse, but its to be expected. He's testing her and such. This story will have its ups and downs, I think he'll become more gentle with her though...**

**This chap is extra long, enjoy!**

**Always Takes One **

**Chapter III:**

My back began to ache as I pressed myself into the wall, as if I could somehow put more distance between us.

After more countless hours locked in the trunk, possibly a day or more, he had finally let me out. I prepared myself, and dodged away from him and into the corner. He didn't come after me though, just stood idly.

He held a rectangular box in his grasp, and set it aside on the old bed. Then he started towards me. My muscles tensed with every step he took, and I tried to plan an escape route as his hand reached behind to his back pocket. Oh god, he's going to kill me!

I can see a plastic bottle in his grasp, and he holds it out to me in offering. A bottle of water. But why? Did this mean he wanted me alive? I glare at him, refusing his offer regardless of how thirsty I am. After a moment he seems to take the hint and sets the water onto the ground in front of me.

I inspect it, thinking he may of drugged it or poisoned it. Perhaps it wasn't even water. But the cap is sealed. So I pick it up reluctantly, knowing I won't survive long if I don't keep hydrated. He's watching me, but I ignore his curious stare as I crack open the bottle and drink the majority of it. The cool liquid soothed my sore dry throat, and I use a small amount to wipe my face.

By the time I'm done with it, he's wondered over to the bed again and sits down on the edge beside the box. He doesn't seem to be in any rush to open it, and I wonder if he expects me to. So I can discover for myself some sick torture device he'll use soon.

He taps the box with the tip of a finger as he stares at me again, a silent invitation. What if it was food? He did give me water so its a possibility, but it looked like a strange place to keep it.

"If you think I'm falling for it, you're more stupid than I thought." I said without thought.

His expression doesn't shift in the slightest. Either he has a lot of patience, or he didn't understand me. He sat silent.

He pushed the box of the edge, and it landed with a small thud. Not that heavy? Unfortunately despite the fall the lid remains atop the box, leaving me no clue as to what is inside. He kicked it forwards a little with the tip of his black lace up boots.

I reached out to it, keeping my body as far as I could as I lifted the lid from the box. There inside I could see navy blue fabric, not food or any kind of weapon I had suspected. I looked up at him in confusion, and his lips were parted in that weird amused smile he seemed to do often.

Seeing no immediate danger, I pulled it out and realised it was a folded piece of clothing. Please be a jacket, I thought. All I had was my work dress shirt that cut off at the elbows. However, this wasn't what I had expected.

It looked like a _costume_. A very skimpy sailor looking outfit. It was a mostly navy coloured dress, with accents and stripes of white and red. It was complete with golden buttons going parallel down the stomach and a skirt that flayed out but cut off pretty short. It even had one of those collars sailors had, which tied low probably to allow more cleavage.

I dropped the dress to the side and rummaged through the rest of the box, finding thigh high striped stockings with garters, a matching hat and small coat. What is this? There was one more thing I wanted to check.

I checked the sizes on the clothing, _10_. Precisely my size. A coincidence? Or not... I met his stare again.

"They look a bit small for you, but it would go lovely with your mask" I commented sarcastically. I was irritated, and frankly disgusted by the fact this psycho wanted me to dress up for him.

His mouth closed to a thin line and he lifted a shining object from his pocket, a knife. Hailey you fool, I scolded myself.

He crossed the room in a couple powerful strides and pressed the blade against the sensitive skin of my neck. I tried tugging away from the cold metal but his free hand gripped my dark hair painfully.

"No no no please don't" I pleaded.

I heard the knife drop, and he used both hands to grip the two sides of my shirt. He then pulled them apart with a rough yank, buttons scattered across the floor. He tore the shirt from my arms and threw it on the ground in a tattered mess. I was grateful I still had a singlet to cover myself, but one strap was broken in his haste and I was holding it up.

A sob escaped me as I pulled my arms to my chest, but he wasn't done. He grabbed my legs, and roughly tried to pull off my jeans. I kicked and tried to crawl away but he wouldn't stop.

"Okay! Okay! P-Please stop I'll d-do it I'll wear it please just stop!" I gave in. I understood what he was implying. If I wasn't going to put it on, then he'd do it for me.

He stopped, and raised his head. The fiery anger behind his eyes disappeared and his lips parted slightly in that usual calm, curious expression. He then released me, picked up his knife and stood to back away.

I held the dress with shaky hands, but my gaze fell on him again. Did I have to change in front of him too?

"Are...are you going to leave?" I questioned softly, careful not to anger him.

His expression remained normal, but he then shook his head slowly. Did he not understand?

"I-I can't...I can't change in front of y-you" I stuttered pathetically. I hated how quickly I'd lose my confidence.

Again there was no reply from him, only body language. His head tilted to the side curiously, as if he really didn't get it.

"...I'm a woman!..and a-and you're..."

His eyelids drooped, and a smirk pulled at his lips. His gloved hand drifted from his side and stroked across his clothed crotch, finishing my sentence; _a man_.

My eyes went wide, and I immediately averted my eyes to the floor. I could feel my cheeks burning in both embarrassment and disgust, and I knew he was amused.

I heard him huff a sigh, and I slowly looked up again. He shook his head, and held up his index finger and turned around. After a second of looking at his back in confusion, I realised he was allowing me a small piece of privacy to put on the dress. So I quickly pulled off my jeans and singlet, then slipped on the dress in one fluid motion incase he was to turn around.

I reached around the back and began pulling up the zipper, then realised I couldn't do it up on my own. In denial, I kept trying until my masked captor turned around again and my arms instantly fell to my sides.

He strolled up to me, holding my shoulders to turn me around. I complied reluctantly. I felt the latex of one of his gloved fingers on the base of my bare neck, slowly trailing down my spine. I stiffened, and I tried my best to retain my anger, I really did.

"Don't touch me!" I snapped and span around to push him away.

He just stared at me as I backed away, as if I was crazy. I moved towards the dressing table and picked up a random jar. I then threw it at him, as if it would somehow hit his stupid masked face and knock him out.

The jar hit his shoulder, shattering and leaving a cloud of white powder. His silver eyes drifted to white on his shoulder, then back at me.

"Fuck" I muttered.

I continued throwing random bottles and nonsense his way, but he dodged all of them with ease and made a steady walk towards me. I swung my arms at him, trying to punch or slap him away but he gripped both my wrists, then turned me around and held them together in one hand behind my back. He roughly pushed me against the dresser then used his free hand to hold my head down firmly on the table.

I tried kicking my legs, stamping him on the foot or kicking his knees back. But he used his own to intertwine with mine and spread them out, effectively making them useless.

I knew how close his crotch would be to my ass, and was grateful that the ruffles in the dress prevents me from feeling anything. He bent over me, and growled into my ear, causing goosebumps to rise on my skin.

He moved his face back down to the zipper of my dress, and I furrowed my eyebrows in confusion as I felt it zip up slowly. Was he...pulling it up with his _teeth_? I could feel the warm breath and the slight graze from the fabric of his mask on my back, I squirmed beneath him to no use.

He finally reached the top, and I heard a tiny '_ting_' as he released the zip. The pressure on my head lessened and he pulled me back up. I could see myself in the slightly cracked mirror, and his masked face looking over my right shoulder.

His eyes traveled over my form in the tight fitted dress, and his tongue swiped out and licked along his lips. He looked like a starved man looking at a piece of cake or something, ugh...

Reaching down under the dresser, he slid out a stool and pushed on my shoulders until I sat down on it reluctantly. He examined the remaining objects scattered about, and seemed most interested in a hairbrush. Great, was he gonna do my hair too? My dark hair is beginning to get greasy and mattered from lack of care, I don't know what he planned.

_Crash. Scream._ I flinch at the sudden noise from somewhere outside this room, and he simply turns. I hear a low growl from him as he storms out of the room and swings the door which would inevitably slam it shut right? I heard only a slight click, I turned and was surprised to see the door slightly ajar. His footsteps faded out and I quickly rushed over to it.

I held it open to look out, and thankfully no one is in sight. The door is heavy and I could see why it would take effort to close it properly...unless he's testing me.

I shrugged off the feeling and walked left down the hall, but I couldn't help myself as I began to run. My bare feet padded against the concrete as I kept a quick but steady jog until I tripped over something.

I fell over awkwardly and turned onto my back to see two arrows shoot from a device in the wall. If I hadn't tripped, they most likely would of impaled my head and neck...what the fuck...

I inspected the arrows now stuck on the other side of the hallway. Why would he set a trap when he can so easily fall into it himself? I suppose he would already know the pace like the back of his hand...

I wasted no more time and picked myself up from the floor then continued through the building. Being more slower and cautious, I walked towards a large door. I froze when I heard soft sobbing from the inside, but entered when I realised it was probably another victim in need of help.

The door made a creak, and I heard a gasp from the person. The room like many others had only dull lighting a a concrete interior.

"Hello?..." The person called out.

I approached the huddled figure on the floor cautiously, and their head raised. A girl, looking not much older than me with torn clothing covered in blood and a strange metal thing wrapped around her neck. I crouched to her level as she looked at me with hesitation.

"Are you alright? What's your name?" I asked her gently.

"...R-Rachel..." She whispered.

"I'm going to get us help okay, Rachel? Do you know the way out?"

She shook her head "O-only he knows...only he has the keys and knows the traps.."

I looked about the room worried, when would _he_ notice I'm gone? I had to act fast and get the both of us out of here, or at least try..

"We have to try, come on" I took her hand and tried pulling her up.

Rachel tugged her arm back, shaking her head slowly as her lips trembled. "No...it's too late for m-me.." She pointed to the thing attached on her neck. "I didn't make the collection"

I studied the back of it, finding a timer glowing with red numbers _'2:34' _counting down. A bomb?

"Oh my god.." I whispered while trying to figure out a way of removing the thing. "He is the Collector...?"

"Who else?" she muttered. "You can't escape yet, he'll find you and punish you. Y-You need to make it into his collection...gain trust. Its the only way to stay alive for now. Learn the building...maybe you can free the others.."

She paused, letting out a few strangled sobs as she looked up at me again. "If you get the chance...kill that motherfucker."

I nodded, then pulled away from her and stood. "Go" she demanded. And I left the room, closing the door just in time to here the bomb go off.

I took a sharp intake of air, pressing my hand on the door. But I knew I didn't want to see. That poor woman...and that sick son of a bitch!

Storming back down the hall, I wanted to beat the shit out of this Collector guy more than anything. Could I take him? Probably not. As I walked I began kicking the walls, anything scattered along the floor, the air. I was mad, scared and thoroughly depressed.

Then to my obvious misfortune, I staggered through a rope. A tugged away but it suddenly tightened around my ankle and pulled me into the air. I squealed in surprise as I was now flipped upside down hung from the ceiling. Perfect.

I groaned then turned just in time to see standing at the end of the hallway, staring at me intently in a predatory stance, _the Collector._

* * *

**A/N: did that escalate quickly? Did i explain some parts in painful detail and you wished something would happen? Perhaps... Stories can be boring at first I'm afraid...**

**I guess I'm kind of basing Hailey's experience with the Collector on Abby from 'The Collection'. She was one of the people he liked, dressed her up in makeup and nonsense. So I kind of thought he may have a thing for odd outfits. **

**I see the Collector as a rather solitary person. He is revealed at the end of 'The Collection' as an entomologist, and seems to relate more to insects rather than humans. He shows very calm composure, but I believe he has a lot of bottled up emotions that perhaps no one cared about. I will show this in later chapters.**

**Please review and give suggestions, thank you! **


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